


Of silence

by Sirgoldenfool



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Angst, F/M, Grief/Mourning, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:27:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24682279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sirgoldenfool/pseuds/Sirgoldenfool
Summary: Set at the end of season 4 episode 6 ,  when Flint goes to Silver's cabin when they believe Madi is dead. My take on this scene. Silver's way of handling his grief and trauma. Unresolved feelings and tensions between Silver and Flint.
Relationships: Captain Flint | James McGraw/John Silver, Madi/John Silver
Comments: 7
Kudos: 29





	Of silence

The memories are a merciless flow that sway him, waves crushing him, drowning him. Lingering touches, cool fingers against his cheek, ebony skin shining softly under the moonlight, rare smiles, wise words, soft lips, appeasement after a long day in the quiet of the night, heart beating under his palm, laughter as they played in the water, delicate hands toying with his hair. A way out of the dark. A feeling of belonging, of having some importance to someone. He wants to let go, forget himself in the remembrances but the silence around him brings him back inexorably to the big cabin, too big for only one man. Every unoccupied inch of it, flooded by light, is a reminder of the absence. The soft creaking sound of the ship and of the water against her is unbearable. The sea is calm, spreading infinitely around him and there’s this silence. It seems to fill everything, his lungs, his mind, his heart, the ship, the world. The silence that mocks him, reminds him that there’s only his own breath in the room when there ought to be two. He cannot wrap his mind around the immensity of the loss. He contemplates the mountains of memories inside him made irrevocably unreachable by the oceans of emptiness guarding it. He has no ship to navigate these oceans. He is reduced to the vague awareness of what he had and what he has no more. Death does that: it turns everything into fleeting dreams with no consistence. And yet he remembers how her breath against his neck felt, he remember every wet kiss she gifted him with. But it has no more value than smoke in an evening sky. Emptiness and silence everywhere. 

The creaking of the door resonates in the room and yet the silence is untouched. He knows who is there, he feels his hesitation but he cannot bring himself to care. How can the feeling of her body against his be so vivid and yet the features of her face already seem fleeting, pale in comparison to what she truly was? The door behind him closes and the voice so familiar fills the space.

“We’ll be arriving soon.”

Ah yes. Life keeps going on, regardless of the world having been emptied. There will be no avoiding of the noises of the war that only widen the silence. Yet, even those noises will soon be extinguished. Another failure. Without knowing how, he finds in himself the strength to speak, even though it feels like it doesn’t make any difference. 

“Still no sign of Rackham?”

“No.”

The voice is soft and firm as it takes away some distant taste of reality that was left. It is weird, he knows that at some point he felt so satiated, so powerful, he believed in.. something. 

“Do you really think they just...”

He cannot say the word out loud. It would be pushing the shards into his skin, would tear him from the inside. But the voice is relentless, won’t let him escape.

“Abandoned us? Yes”

There is a pause, and the word echoes again and again in the silence. The word he always comes back to. Abandonment. The only anchor in his life. She did just the same, death is only one of its many faces. For a while he forgot, he thought he could escape it by rooting himself, he thought love could… He should have known silence was always victorious. The ghost of a smell distracts him from the thought. He closes his eyes to try to catch it, to trap it, to store it. He tries to ignore the feeling of failure that engulfs him.

“I’m sorry.”

The voice slaps him, forcing reality back to him. The voice is sorry. Sorry. As if the word held any meaning. The word that the voice said before made sense. This one is as empty as everything else. It says nothing of the oceans that separate him from his memories. The voice sits down next to him and he can feel its intensity directed towards him. He can feel how it's shaking, how it stumbles and how it's raw with emotion. Something inside him is stirred by it. He knows the voice so well, he got lost in it so many times. It was the voice that had chased the silence for a while. Now, it is only the weak reflection of another, lost forever.

“I need you to know that I did everything I could to keep her safe.”

The voice stabs him. He closes his eyes to push it away. The pain in it is far too real, he can almost feel its guilt in its mouth. He remembers eyes, brown and shiny. He sees them distorted and agonizing.

“But I don’t expect that to mean anything.”

This is also something familiar to him, like the word abandonment and the silence. It’s lies, told to try to fill the emptiness, told to ease the pain. The voice is nothing but expecting. The voice always wants and always takes. He knows exactly what it is after and so he feeds it, like he always does.

“It wasn’t.” The words are difficult to articulate, like something is obstructing the mechanism. He forces the rest of it to come out. “Your fault.” He is sure they must have some kind of meaning, for the voice to want them but it doesn’t know which one.

He repeats them again to try to understand. “It. Wasn’t. Your . Fault.” It awakes something in him. A crawling shadow lurking inside him. The voice gets up, and he doesn’t want to look at it because he doesn’t want to see. He wants it away.

But the voice touches his shoulder and everything unravels. 

Silver suddenly recognizes the shadow inside him. It’s white-hot anger, it needs to kill, to destroy and he will be damned if he doesn’t unleash it. His hands flash to Flint’s and trap it. Slowly, deliberately, he turns so he can see his face. Guilt is painted all over it, as well as surprise. Silver knows this face better than he knows his own. Better than Madi’s that is already fading away. 

“Is that it? Is that all you have to say? You come, say you’re sorry, make sure that I take the guilt away from you and then you leave?”

The man recoils, as if he has been punched. “I-” He seems to be at loss for words and a part of Silver’s brain notices how unusual it is, how vulnerable he looks. There’s a dark satisfaction in it and he cannot stop himself. He gets up and take a step towards the other.

“You’re an egoist piece of shit. Billy warned me this would happen, that your rage, your madness really would consume her. That you would claim her in the name of your war. I didn’t listen to him. I wanted him to be wrong but I knew he was right . I knew it and yet I hoped and so I punished him for telling me the truth. I betrayed my friend to save you. And you? What do you do? You let Madi die, you ask me to clear you conscience and then you leave.”

His fingers are numb from gripping Flint’s wrist, his knuckles gone white. He must be hurting him but he couldn’t care less. He wonders briefly if Madi suffered or if she went peacefully. He knows she didn’t. The man who didn’t rescue her steps back and Silver could laugh at how easy to read he has become. He does. It’s an ugly, misshapen little thing and it sends Flint stumbling back a few more steps. It pleases him to see the pain he can inflict to this man who he has given everything up for. He goes after him, still speaking, his voice low and dangerous. 

“Tell me, did you actually believe that you could keep your relationship with me, keep taking from me like nothing happened? Did you actually think you could free yourself from your responsibility? That you could make me shoulder you guilt?”

Flint is trembling as he bumps into the wall and Silver sees an expression on his face that he has never seen before. A few seconds slip away before he realizes what it is. Fear. Flint fears him. God, the rush of power he feels is so thrilling it distracts him from the grief for a while. It's wonderful in a way that he doesn’t quite understand fully. Because even though fear is carved on every crease of his face or, perhaps because of it, Flint does not resist him, does not try to fight back. He is vulnerable and entirely at the mercy of Silver. The ocean inside him seems to shrink a little even as Flint shaky voice escapes from his lips.

“I tried. I really did try to protect her. I-” He falters, his eyes going up in a silent plea for strength, for answers. He looks so small, like Silver could crush him in an instant and he is tempted to. He cannot count the things he has crushed for this man. His dream of a carefree life, his comfort, his ability to not give a fuck, his leg, his independence. Madi. Madi. Suddenly the image in front of him blurs, and here she is. Wise, powerful, beautiful. Except when she speaks it is with the voice that is most familiar to him, the voice that has wormed its way into his brain, into his very being. The voice that killed her.

“She made her choice when she decided to join this war and I- I wish I could have protected her, I wish you never had that taken from you. But ultimately she knew what she was getting herself into, she knew the risks. And it would be diminishing her to take that from her.” 

He knows it. Of course, he knows it. He knows her. He knew her. She was not some fragile thing who wanted protection. She was stronger than he ever was and this war was her priority. She had made it pretty clear that had she a choice to make between him or winning, she would have chosen the war in a heartbeat. Maybe he should be grateful that she died before he had to face the reality of him not being enough. Being left behind once again. Abandonment. But Flint. Flint was supposed to be the one who could change the world, bend reality to his will. So Silver is bound to think that maybe this situation is his will, that he wants this, John left alone with no one but him and the war. Maybe Flint wants John to be as dependent as he is. Maybe Silver is standing exactly where the other wants him to be standing. He snarls.

“That is true. But it isn’t the whole truth now, is it? You’re the one who implanted the idea of this impossible war in her head. In mine. Hell, you convinced me that this pipe dream was something we could reach, something that was worth desiring. You went so far into my head that I wanted only what you wanted. Except for Madi. Madi was the only thing in my life that eluded you, that was out of your reach. You couldn’t bear it so you got inside her head. Made her yours in a way I could never compete with. You offered her the world and I was just a cripple. And she died for it.”

Now, there’s anger fighting with agony on Flint’s face but his voice is still tinged with despair.

“You know it isn’t true. You have to know it. I would never wish you to undergo such a thing. I- I know better than anyone the pain of losing the one you love and if I could do anything to make it unhappen, I would. If I could give you happiness, I would.”

“Would you? Even if it meant that I had love and not you? Even if it meant that I left you behind, alone?” As he says this, his whole body seems to freeze except for his blood, a thin thread of fire thrumming under the surface. His eyes catch Flint’s and an unbearable realization dawns on him. The other seems to catch it as well as he holds up his gaze. There’s no hesitation.

“Yes. I would. Because you’re my friend.”

That’s not quite the truth, John realizes. It’s only a fragment of it. His next words are slow and careful.

“Your friend. Maybe I am. Or maybe I am something else, something you wouldn’t allow yourself to say you want. To think you want. Maybe...”

He does not finish his sentence. The display of emotions on Flint’s face take his breath away. Guilt, fear, relief, anguish fight a terrible fight on his features. And Silver does not know what to do with it, he doesn’t know what to feel. There is no silence in his head anymore but a cacophony of voices that threaten to tear him apart. 

But in the room silence stretches, only broken by the sound of their ragged breathes, as if they had been running miles. He cannot look away, he is mesmerized by what he sees. Flint looks so fragile, waiting to be crushed by Silver’s judgment. Silver recognizes the state they’re currently in. It’s the calm before the storm. In a few instants, everything is about to go down, no matter which way it goes. His eyes drop to Flint’s lips. The captain gulps. He thinks of Madi, of Madi’s lips, of his hands on her body, of her love. Flint shifts uncomfortably and speaks.

“I think I should go. Leave you alone to grieve.”

Silver doesn’t answer, his eyes fixed on him. He sees Flint and he sees Madi. Blue eyes turn into brown. The skin takes a darker tone, the features soften. On the foreign and yet familiar face, full lips sketch a gentle smile, a cruel smile. The person in front of him that he knows so well, that he doesn’t know at all makes to leave and suddenly he cannot bear it. He knows the mountains and the oceans are waiting for him just beneath the surface.

He goes for the throat. 

His arm blocks the air out of Flint’s lungs. Surprise blossoms in his captain’s eyes but he doesn’t fight back. Only his hand goes to Silver’s arm, not quite trying to remove it.

“You will not leave me”

It is a growl, filled with despair, with rage, with need, with years of deafening silence. Flint is clearly beginning to lack air but his eyes are locked with John’s. Green eyes. Brown eyes. Green eyes. Wall eyes. Silver closes his eyes. Something breaks.

He goes for the lips.

It’s like returning home. It’s like being thrown out. It’s violent and it’s demanding. Flint is reluctant at first but Silver bites his way in and he finally gives in. For a moment, they clash and they fight. But then the other turns tender and Silver is lost, drowning in memories of other kisses until he doesn’t know who he is kissing anymore. He almost convinces himself that it doesn’t matter. He almost let himself get draped in love and tenderness and care. 

The unfamiliar feeling of a beard grazing against his skin brings him back to consciousness . He opens his eyes and pulls away. The one he sees in front of him is not Madi but Flint who, struggling to get his breath back because of the joined effect of the aggression and the kiss, looks at him with an intensity full of unnamed feelings. Silver is devastated. Silver is delighted. He hates this and he wants it so badly and he wants to die and he wants to live and he wants Madi back and he wants Flint. More than anything he wants the silence to go away. And for once, he can clearly hear the drums the tension between their two beings is creating. So he plunges once again, tasting the mouth of Flint and listening to the silence receding. He takes and Flint gives. Madi also gave but not like this, never like this. Madi shared while Flint just gives himself up. And Silver takes, takes, takes. He only leaves his mouth to trail a line of kisses down the neck of Flint. He lets every sound the other makes erase the silence. 

When he finally arrives to the place where the neck turns into a shoulder, he inhales, takes a second to feel the shiver that shakes Flint’s body, and then sinks deeply his teeth in the hardened flesh. 

The coppery taste of blood slowly fills his mouth, invades his throat and infiltrates the very core of his being.

The ocean inside him turns red.


End file.
